


Pushed to the Limit

by kittylovessterek (kitty_fic)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Christmas, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Pining Derek, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roommates, Scent Kink, Sharing Clothes, Smut, Stiles Stilinski is Eighteen Years Old, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-18 23:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/pseuds/kittylovessterek
Summary: Watching Stiles get ready to go out is torture. The universe is obviously testing him. There’s only so much temptation one werewolf can take.





	Pushed to the Limit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuchs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuchs/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, mermaid-reyes! Your blog was such a wealth of wonderful ideas and inspiration, it was hard to choose just one thing to write! I would have loved to have written you an intensely detailed AU, but then reality set in and I remembered that I'm more of a fluff and smut writer! XD So I hope you enjoy this silly little offering anyway! <3

Derek watches as Stiles pulls on a fitted tee. He turns front to back and side to side, checking his reflection in the mirror. It’s the sixth shirt he’s tried on, each one tighter than the last. Derek doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

If someone had told Derek a few months ago that he’d be spending his senior year of college rooming with a freshman, he wouldn’t have believed them. Or if he had, he probably would’ve just taken the initiative and put himself out of his misery before it could come true. And yet, he’s survived an entire semester and, surprisingly, it hasn’t been all bad. 

Stiles has his faults to be sure, but the worst part isn’t what Derek would have expected. He’s found he can deal with the mess. He can deal with the noise. He can deal with all of Stiles’ _many_ quirks. He can even deal with Stiles’ friends.

The worst part is the _desire_. What Derek can _not_ deal with is how much he _wants_.

“This isn’t working.” Stiles pulls up the shirt he was trying on, his voice muffled under the material as it gets caught on his head. 

He finally struggles free and turns towards Derek, bare-chested.

Derek stares -- licking his lips at the sight of Stiles’ small, pink, little nipples -- then forces himself to close his eyes, but the image is already burned into his retinas.

When he opens them again, Stiles is dressed once more. Derek isn’t sure if that’s better or worse.

“What do you think of this one?” Stiles says, frowning at his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek grits out. “Just like all the rest.” He breathes in through his nose and pushes down the need to reach out to touch -- to claim.

“Fine?!” Stiles yanks the offending shirt up and off and tosses it onto the growing pile of clothes in the corner of their room -- the pile that Derek will undoubtedly be the one to pick up later. 

“Yes, fine.” Derek repeats. “What’s wrong with fine?”

“Wow, what a glowing recommendation,” Stiles deadpans. “Fine isn’t good enough. It needs to be _so_ much better than fine.”

He pouts, and Derek gnashes his teeth. 

“It’s great. They’re all great. You look great.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re impossible. Absolutely no help at all,” he says as he plops down on Derek’s bed. He starfishes his arms and legs, spreading them out until he’s taking up every inch of the bed possible, his bare skin rubbing against Derek’s sheets and spreading his scent all over.

Derek clears his throat, crosses his arms, and digs his too-sharp nails into his palms as Stiles lays in his bed -- his scent no doubt soaking deeper and deeper into the sheets the longer he lies there.

Not that his scent isn’t already permeating every inch of the room, but Stiles seems to have an obsession with Derek’s bed in particular. 

Derek swears that Stiles spends more time in Derek’s bed than he does his own. He sits on it. He lays on it. Derek’s even come back from class and caught him napping on it.

He really wants to ask Stiles why he doesn’t just use his own bed, but he’s too afraid that if he does, then Stiles will stop, and that would be so much worse. As it stands, Derek’s only real complaint is that Stiles only claims his bed when Derek himself is not actually in it. 

“I wish Lydia were here. She’d know exactly what I should wear,” Stiles whines.

“Why don’t you just wear the shirt that Lydia gave you for Christmas? That seems like a safe bet.”

“Dirty.” Stiles frowns and covers his face with Derek’s pillow.

“It’s just a club. It’s not a damn runway. Pick something.”

“You would say that.” Stiles glares at him. “You always look like a model no matter what you wear.”

“ _Please_ \-- just pick something.” Derek growls. 

“I want someone to actually touch me tonight. I need touching, Derek.” 

Oh, _how_ Derek wants to be the one to touch him.

Clinging to Derek’s pillow, he rolls over onto his stomach and tucks it under his chin. “I know I’ve said this before, but it’s still true. I don’t want to die a virgin. I intend to find someone to fuck me tonight. It’s my Christmas present to myself.”

Derek gapes at him.

“Don’t look so shocked, sourwolf. I _neeed_ someone to sex me up. Remember sex? I’m sure you’re familiar with it.” 

It takes everything Derek has to plant his feet and stay where he is. His wolf howls for him to take the few steps towards Stiles, grab him, and make him his.

“Oh! I have an idea!” Stiles shouts as he bounces up out of the bed and returns to rifling through the closet again. 

Derek is immensely grateful for the distraction. Until Stiles reappears with yet another shirt, one that looks extremely familiar and is obviously too large for him.

“That’s _my_ shirt,” Derek says, but Stiles is already pulling it on. 

“Yep,” Stiles answers, with a pop at the end of the word. 

Derek closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. The universe is obviously testing him. There’s only so much temptation one werewolf can take.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to the sight of Stiles wearing his shirt. It’s a poor fit to be sure -- far too big for him -- but Derek can’t help but think it looks amazing despite that.

To Derek’s eternal regret, it doesn’t take long for Stiles to decide against this one as well.

Stiles pinwheels his arms, waving the rejected tee at Derek, their shared scent wafting towards him with every gesture of Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles’ tosses the shirt at Derek’s head and he reaches out to catch it, holding it tight in his hand and refusing to allow himself to bury his face in the fabric. 

That’s when he snaps. The stimulus is just too much. He can’t take it any longer. As if the sight of Stiles’ smooth skin on display wasn’t enough, knowing Stiles’ goal for the night pushes him over the edge. The scent of them together combined with the overpowering need to touch breaks the thin thread of control that Derek has been so desperately holding onto for the last few months.

With superhuman speed, he moves across the room, grabs hold of Stiles waist, pins him between the wall and Derek’s own body, and kisses him.

When the kiss breaks, Stiles is smiling at him. “Well, that took you long enough. I was starting to get desperate.”

Derek dips his head into the crook of Stiles’ neck and growls.

“You want someone to touch you?” Derek asks. 

“Please,” Stiles begs, breathless as he thrusts forward, his dick hard in his jeans.

“You don’t need to go out. I promise you won’t need anyone else. I’m the only one you need. I promise, I’ll make you feel so good.” He reaches down, unbuttons Stiles’ fly and cups his dick through his underwear. 

'That's - Yeah,” Stiles whimpers.

He shoves his thigh between Stiles’ legs, grabs his ass and pulls him forward until he’s humping Derek’s thigh.

“That’s it. Just like that, baby. Rub yourself off. Take some of the pressure off now, then I’ll fuck you until you come again.”

He runs his fingers down Stiles’ trembling spine and slips one hand down the back of Stiles’ pants. Derek grips Stiles’ ass cheek in his palms, fingers digging into the flesh as he bends his head, buries his face in Stiles’s neck again, scenting him. He licks his throat and nudges behind his ear as Stiles moves against Derek’s muscled thigh, seeking the perfect amount of friction.

Stiles whines as his hips move faster and his arms slide around Derek’s neck, holding tight. Derek watches his mouth as Stiles’ licks his lips, his mouth hanging open _like always_.

Derek leans in for another kiss and considers the many many things he’s dreamed of doing to that mouth.

Derek’s lips move further down Stiles’ cheek and neck as he works kisses down his collarbone and chest.

Derek shifts his leg, giving Stiles more leverage and pulling him into position so that he can get his mouth on Stiles’ pouty little nipples. He sucks one in his mouth and thumbs the other as Stiles moans in pleasure, his orgasm drawing near.

Derek’s cock is aching, but he can’t think about that yet. Stiles is still grinding on his thigh, his cock dribbling precome, making him so wet that Derek can smell it leaking from his tip and soaking into his underwear.

Derek’s fingers dip lower, sliding into the cleft of Stiles’ ass to tease his rim. He rubs over the tight clench of Stiles’ body, gently circling his hole until he can barely press in.

“You’re so tight. I’ll have to finger you for hours just to fit my cock in you.”

Whimpering like a puppy, Stiles moves his hips forward and back, his cock rubbing against Derek’s leg and his ass thrusting back on Derek’s finger.

“Fuck, Derek, yes! I’m going to come.”

“That’s it, baby,” Derek growls, his voice going deeper, almost inhuman. “Come for me, Stiles. I want you to.”

Derek bites suddenly on his shoulder and Stiles twitches. He presses his teeth down, just holding him there, careful not to break skin as he slips his hand between them again and grips Stiles’ dick.

“Derek, yes, yes --” and then he comes, hips jerking erratically as he pulses into Derek’s hand with a broken off cry. His legs give out as Derek pulls him close, supporting his weight. Even with his cock still pressing against Stiles’ hip, he feels satisfied and more content than he has in a long time.

Derek looks at him and feels an overwhelming urge to kiss him again, but Stiles’ beats him to it. He leans in sliding his tongue across Derek’s bottom lip causing a spark of friction to run down Derek’s spine as their tongues touch.

“I really hope we’re planning to do that so many more times.” Stiles grins at him.

“As much as you want,” Derek promises with a kiss as he steps backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed.

“You should really be careful what you promise.”

Derek sits down, catching Stiles easily as he topples forward onto him. 

“Can I tell you something?” Derek asks, voice muffled against Stiles’ hair.

“Hmm?”

“I liked you best in my shirt.”

“I know,” Stiles replies.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2017 Sterek Secret Santa exchange.  
> thanks to my betas jiang and schweet_heart.
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @kittylovessterek


End file.
